Fated Betrayal
by Lambda38
Summary: He was the son of the greatest mind alive. Tortured, twisted, molded by a fallen god. In the end, his devotion was not enough. He fell through the gate, broken and bleeding, into the arms of yet another fallen god, who begs for aid.
1. Prologue

**Prologue: Bitter Betrayal**

* * *

I grit my teeth as I watch Morgan guide our enemies over the Risen, handily slaughtering my Risen.

 _What in Grima's name are you doing, you imbecile?_ I think in rage as I see the masked wyvern rider slam his axe through the head of another Risen. _We are supposed to keep tabs on them and move them the way we want! Not aid them further!_ I scowl heavily under my cloaks hood as Lucina slashes straight through two undead in quick succession as the insane archer takes out my final sage. _We had them… We had Yarne and Nah too injured to risk fighting, injured Inigo's arms too much to hold his sword… Forced that armor loving buffoon to stay by them, had broken their last stave… You traitorous fool, this is against Grima's will._ I angrily wipe of the liquid on my face.

And just when I thought it couldn't possibly be worse, Morgan pointed me out to them. I stilled in shock as Severa sees me, and charges with the intent of felling yet another Grimleal.

I bite back a curse and extend my hand, breaking my emergency summoning stone, spawning five myrmidon Risen in seconds as I turn to flee.

I don't bother with looking back as I hear the sound of my final reinforcements dying, nor when the sound of wing beats resounds. I simply race along the ground, doing my best to avoid tripping over the various tree roots and plant life around me. As I run by yet another half dead tree, I hear the distinct sound of a bowstring release, and immediately dive left, barely dodging an arrow, but find myself struck with a merciless blast of lightning.

I barely repress a scream of agony as fury sears through my veins, and I call upon my magic, casting a Thoron blast at the wyvern rider who was trying to take advantage of my downed state, forcing him back. In a moment, I'm on my feet and casting another blast of lightning slightly off to the left of the approaching blue haired lord.

She dodges right, as I predicted, allowing for my attack to soar and slam directly into the chest of my dear little traitor, Morgan, causing her to shriek in agony and drop like a stone.

I turn and begin to flee yet again, feeling the strain beginning to mount on my body from two consecutive high powered spells, and discreetly swap my Thoron tome for a simpler, if less powerful, Thunder spell. I listen as the sound of footsteps draws closer, charging a small bolt of Thunder in my hand before whirling and firing it in Lucina's face. The blue haired girl cries out as the pegasus knight of the group dives through a nearby gap in the trees to reach us, swinging her lance fiercely at me.

I grunt as I attempt to dodge, though I fail, getting her lance straight through my left bicep. I yell in pain as my arm flops helplessly, gritting my teeth in a panic. I jump back before she can hit me again and look to see Owain, the yellow clad myrmidon, approaching swiftly. I growl as I turn to flee once more, casting a weak Thunder spell at the dazed Lucina to force the pegasus knight to fall back in defending her.

I move as fast as I can, gritting my teeth and breathing heavily as I note the trees thinning out. In several more moments, I find myself in a clearing on a cliff side, a massive archway of stone standing silently like an aged sentinel. I skid to a stop, stowing my tome in attempt to free my hand and bind my wound, tearing off a piece of my shirt.

 _I'm moments from having twelve little upstarty plebs on me, and nowhere to go,_ I think in anger. _Of course Morgan would be too weak to drive them where Lord Grima demanded. She's too weak, always too weak. Pathetic._

I finish binding it as footsteps behind me draw closer. I turn to face my foes, drawing a silver sword from my waist. Owain and Severa stop ten paces from me, as the wyvern rider, whose name I forget at the drop of a hat, lands near them. Moments later, their mage, Laurent, and their archer Noire come into view, ready to fire their attacks.

Several seconds after them, Lucina appears, charging forward, if a little unstable as Cynthia rides behind her, cradling Morgan right in the saddle in front of her. I let out a glare at my damaged foe, who looks up at me with pained, but pleading eyes. I look away from her with a sneer as I note the rest of the merry band hiding back in the woods. Close enough to be aided if reinforcements for me arrive, but not close enough to risk me targeting the injured and useless of their procession.

"Well here we are," I mutter, gesturing at them threateningly with my blade. Even if I am alone and unable to beat them all, I will fight with all of my strength. Lucina steps forward, Falchion held at the ready.

"Surrender, Grimleal! Your death need not be dragged out," she demands coldly. How very unlike she treats her allies. "If you drop your blade, I will make it swift." I let out a snort, and take a defensive stance, my blade held horizontally in front of my stomach.

Without another word, Noire's arrow rockets towards me. I deflect it as the three swordsmen charge, Lucina in the front as Owain and Severa move to strike my flanks. A team effort that is nearly effortless to them after all the years spent in combat.

But I know them like the back of my hand, and they are tired from fighting against the Risen I'd sent against them.

I sidestep Lucina's swipe and send a stab at Severa, who deflects it with a grunt. I fall to a knee beneath Lucina's follow up strike and surge backwards, slamming my body into her outstretched form and sending both of us to the ground. I attempt to roll to me feet over her with the momentum, but find myself blindsided by pain from my arm long enough for Cynthia to slam the blunt end of her spear into my side, likely out of concern of hitting Lucina.

I gasp as I hit the ground, and stand only to find a Fire spell from Laurent before me, giving me no time to react. It strikes and explodes in my face, sending me to my back once more with a roar of agony I suppress swiftly.

I ignore the burns on my hands, brushing off my cloak, thanking Grima not for the first time and hopefully not the last of the magical wards covering it.

I look up to find the wyvern rider bearing down on me, the wyvern poised to bite as its rider prepares to strike. I dodge the bite and deflect the axe strike, though it imbalances me. I turn my gaze as footsteps enter my ears, noting Lucina driving a stab towards my head.

I grunt and jerk my head away, however she still cuts deep into my cheek and through the hood of my cloak, shoving my face into view as it falls away. I glare at the group of children as they stare at me, all but Morgan stunned.

I snarl and slash at Lucina, who manages to block, only for my blade to move from the feint into a stab, ready to pierce her flesh. Until, a wind spell barrels into me, sending me to the ground into an uncontrolled roll.

I stop at the edge of the cliff, inside the rock archway.

A grunt forces its way past my lips as I stand, noting how Morgan has her hand outstretched, with the other holding an Elwind tome. With her skill, it could have killed me.

As I've said, pathetic. Truly a waste of potential to be so held back by emotions.

I rise shakily, sneering at my false companions as I remove my damaged coat and toss it to the side, Cynthia and Owain staring in abject horror, while Lucina and Severa look shocked and hurt respectively, as much as the latter tries to hide it behind anger. Noire stares at me listlessly, her bow held in loose fingers. Clearly not the deranged version her mother's charm makes her. Laurent and the wyvern rider stare at me grimly, but neither appears surprised, only resigned. Back where they stand injured, Nah stares at me with tears dripping from her cheeks, a heartbroken expression plastered over her face, while Yarne looks furious and betrayed. Kjelle grimaces, but otherwise shows nothing. And finally, the stave-less cleric Brady looks at me as though he is ready to cry.

And Morgan just has that same damn plea written across her face.

"You people," I say coldly, glaring at them. "Always such a thorn in my side. Do you have any idea how infuriated Lord Grima gets whenever you slip past him again and again?" I sneer as the name makes them tense, several of them shaking their heads and looking like they want to wake up from whatever nightmare this is. I let out a mocking laugh, trying to hide the trembling of my body.

As much as I don't wish to admit it, they've managed to get me to the point where I don't know if I can fight anymore. Even standing is a little challenging.

"Crow, why?" Lucina asks, her voice shaking like Falchion in her grip. "We've fought together for years, we rescued you from Grima's grasp, why-?" I cut her off with a loud scoff.

"Rescued me?" I drawl loudly. "That entire 'rescue' was nothing more than months of hints dropped by no name Grimleal to make you think that Morgan and I were Robin's children, and were being held hostage. All of it was an elaborate strategy to get you to let us into your fold." Cynthia, Owain, Nah, and Noire let out gasps of disbelief, while the rest grimace or let out snarls. I chuckle derisively. "Never once did any of you fools think that we were leading you on, not any time over the years. I remember the goods times, especially that one where Minerva, dear wyvern, nearly got her wing clipped off."

The wyvern rider scowls at that as the beast in question growls.

"Of course, that plan failed, as did many others," I remark callously. "And this last one would have succeeded, especially with the reinforcements that came behind you, if it weren't for the dear little traitorous-."

"Crow!" Morgan interrupts, drawing my derisive gaze. I stare at her for several moments, watching the pleading look on her face as tears build in her eyes. "Please, come with us! You know that Grima is not what she was! She's dea-!"

"SILENCE YOU TRAITOR!" I roar in anger. "YOU DO NOT GET TO SPEAK TO ME ABOUT ANYTHING!" I rip my furious gaze from her and move it back to Lucina. "Now, then! Don't you remember any of my lessons?" I say the word as though its poison. "When you have an obstacle in the path of your goal, no matter what-."

"Remove it," Laurent finishes as he launches another fire spell at me. I duck to the side, barely moving out of the way before a furious wyvern rider lands next to me, axe approaching my body at full speed.

"NO!" Morgan begs. I watch in cold acceptance as the axe approaches my stomach, burying itself into my flesh.

I find myself flying back through the air, a wind spell having thrown me before the axe could fully end my life. Though, the axe did manage to strike deeply into me. I meet Morgan's eyes past the roaring lizard, noting her tear streaked face and mouth set into a scream I can no longer hear as light begins to surround me and pain fills my mind.

 _Last time, I… do you… any….. fav….._ I try to think as white becomes my world, and I begin to black out.

"Yes, you'll do nicely, I think," I hear echo around me as my mind finally fades.

* * *

 **AN:** Hello. this is rather much a first for me, and I'm trying out a new story type. Let me know what you think so far, and I'll see about getting out the next chapter.

-Lambda38


	2. Chapter 1

**AN:** I'll be honest. I didn't realize deleting chapters meant that FF showed my story as updated… so, uh… sorry about that false alarm before, folks…

Also, You'll note in this chapter that Crow takes after his mother(you'll know what I mean). Not for Grima reasons, as in Awakening, but for more psychological reasons(albeit through my own not entirely informed understanding, as a college student fascinated by psychology).

Most of you probably understand by now.

You might also note a quite large power gap between this chapter and last chapter… this is not an error. I have made no mistakes in his power levels yet.(because THEY'RE OVER 9000). Sorry, couldn't resist. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy the next installment of 'Fated Betrayal.'

-Lambda38

P.S.-The people who saw that notice I put up two or so weeks ago… well, I don't really have much to say about it. There isn't exactly much to say. Still, I figure I should tell you that most of this was written before that event happened. Don't expect chapter to happen quickly… sides from that, see ya later, people.

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Blank**

* * *

" _Oh, little slave!" A powerful feminine voice resounds around me. "You've finally figured out what to do about the annoyances that resist me?"_

 _I drop to a knee, inclining my head so that none of my gaze falls on my master._

" _Yes, master," I reply reverently. "I believe that Morgan and I could infiltrate their group if we made it seem as though we were being held hostage by the Grimleal." I take a shuddering breath as I feel my master's power land solely on my shoulders, forcing me to my hands and knees. "I-if, we can make them b-believe it and, gain entry, we could destroy them, from, fr-from the in-."_

 _I cut off as my master growls loudly, the force on my back increasing to the point where I'm prostrated directly on the ground._

" _Well, if that's to succeed, you'll need to be sufficiently, marked, as being held prisoner," the dark glee in my master's voice nearly makes me whimper before she drags me by my shoulder to another room, throwing me onto a table. "Let's begin."_

 _I resist a scream of agony as she sends her Fell power throughout my body, causing my muscles to seize as she prepares._

Mo-Morgan… _I let out a scream as my body shakes and Grima begins._

* * *

I let out a gasp as I launch into a sitting position, clutching my head as it throbs in agony. I take gasping breaths as I try to figure out what I just saw.

 _Wh-what was,_ I think as I look around, seeing nothing but leafless trees and dark skies rather than recognizable landmarks. _Where, am I?_ I try to stand, using one of the nearby trees as a support, and look around, noting how my left arm won't respond. I look at it to see a bloody piece of cloth around it. _Grand. I'm injured, lost, and I… I can't remember what happened… Where am I? Where was I? What is going on?_

I look around and notice several pairs of footprints and at least one set of hoof prints. I follow their direction into the tree line.

 _People might be able to help me, I just hope they aren't brigands,_ I think.

I stumble along as quietly as I can, feeling the coldness of the bloody rag around my arm. Clearly, I'd been unconscious for some time. The way that the world is slightly spinning also supports this theory.

Unconscious, and losing a lot of blood.

I follow the trail for a small time, eventually coming across the sounds of clashing metal. I blink, before increasing my pace towards the noise. Within moments, I come across a scene I can only assume is a bandit attack.

Around nine scarcely armored men attack a group consisting of an aged mounted knight, two well equipped swordsmen, and two children, no older than ten.

I stare at the scene for several seconds, before my right hand falls to something on my waist. I grab it and pull it up, recognizing it as a magic tome.

Specifically, Thoron.

I sigh, trying to remember exactly how magic could be applied, and to my surprise, find a plethora of applications for the skill.

I turn my gaze to the skirmish, noting how the swordsmen both appear tired and are having a tough time taking on two spearmen each, while a cavalier, a mage, and two archers harry the knight. And from what I can tell, while the knight may well win, it will not be before his comrades fall and the children are taken hostage.

I glare at my useless left arm, before sticking out my tongue.

This may hurt.

I channel the magic from my tome out of the tip of my tongue, focusing the massive blast of lightning towards the mage of the group. Much to my delight, I feel no pain as the spell departs from me, though I do feel fatigue and my tongue feels slightly numb. Still, the hole inside the mage indicates he feels less stellar about himself.

The battle pauses for a moment as the body falls to the ground, having been in the middle of casting a basic wind spell. In the lull of attention, I aim at one of the archers while the mounted knight spears the cavalier through his chest. I launch my spell and take out one archer as the rest of the battle commences once more. The second archer aims at me, and I pant for a moment, too tired to react.

Thankfully for me, the knight throws his spear like a javelin, piercing the heart of the archer before drawing his sword in order to aid one of his comrades. I stumble into a better vantage and point my tongue once again, firing a third Thoron blast that tears through the both of the spearmen attacking the lone swordsman, sending a spray of blood and guts through the air.

I pant for several seconds, noting how the final bandit was run off by the knight. I watch as the party faces me, the knight trotting up cautiously. I meet the eyes of the aged knight, and manage a small smirk before my eyes roll into my head.

* * *

I groan as I wake up, this time with significantly less pain than I had fallen unconscious with. I shift into a sitting position, rubbing my face with my left hand as my right leans on the surface of whatever plushy cushion I am on. I open my eyes and look at my hand in surprise, then at my upper arm.

I note how I have no shirt on, and dismiss it as unimportant as I look at the bandages around my arm. I raise my right hand to the area and press it several times, feeling a dull pain when I do so, but leagues better than the open wound it had been. A cursory attempt reveals my arm is at roughly full functionality, though lifting heavy objects should likely be avoided.

I look around to find myself in a relatively well furnished room. A dresser made of a dark wood on the left of the bed, with a desk and mirror next to it. A chandelier full of unlit candles hangs on the ceiling, and table sits off to the lower right of the bed, with about three feet between it and said bed.

On that note, the bed is a simple, if elegant, matter. Polished dark wood makes up the frame while a comfortable mattress supports my form, with a nice dark red blanket over me.

I groan and move the covers off of my legs, turning and setting my feet unsteadily on the red carpet. After several seconds, I stand and lurch unsteadily, falling onto the wall for balance. I take another breath and draw myself to my full height, trying to get my clearly underused body back into walking shape. I take a few tentative steps, each slightly less shaky than the last.

After several minutes, I am walking about mostly comfortably, and look around for my missing shirt. After failing to locate it with a cursory sweep of the room, I let out a sigh.

I walk to the door, on the opposite side of the room in reference to the bed, and open it slowly, thanking the gods for small mercies as it doesn't make a sound.

I take note of the hall outside my door, lit by candles and torches along the walls. The next thing I notice is the black haired swordsman looking at me. I stare at him for several seconds before opening my mouth to speak.

"Where-," I begin, my voice scratching my throat before I falter and cough repeatedly. Thankfully, he seems to understand.

"You're at the Northern Fortress, near the northern end of Nohrian territory. After you fell unconscious, we brought your here and had the clerics tend to your wounds," he informs me, looking at me with a calculating glint in his eye as his hand rests on the pommel of the sword at his waist. "That was nearly two days ago. The healers were worried you wouldn't wake up with all the blood you'd lost and magicka you expended." I give a nod in reply, rubbing my throat as I realize how parched I am. "In any event, it's good you're up. Follow me. I'll lead you to the kitchens and we'll see about getting some food and water in you." He glances at my bare chest. "Well, after you put a shirt on, I suppose. There should be some in the dresser. Unfortunately, most of your shirt was torn to pieces and covered in blood, so there's no rescuing it."

I nod in reply as I move back into the room, walking to the dresser and opening the drawer closest to my chest height. I look at the empty drawer with annoyance, closing it and opening another. I continue to do this until I find one with a simple white shirt inside, a little on the small side for me, but enough. I pull it over my head, grimacing as a small shot of pain lances through my left arm. Once I finished, I turn and exit the room.

The swordsman glances at me and gestures for me to follow, grabbing a torch off the wall. I do so, and take a moment to study the man in front of me.

He wears a black steel breastplate with chain mail underneath, and ornate black pauldrons atop his shoulders. A pairing of faulds and a culet cover his waist and the small of his back. Over his forearms rest a pair of heavy gauntlets, while his upper arms are left only with the protection of his chain mail. Protecting his legs he wears a pair of greaves and cuisse, while his feet are covered by sabatons, all worn over a pair of thick leather pants and boots.

As for weaponry, he has what looks to be a longsword strapped to his waist, the hilt having a crescent guard before the blade vanished into a dull black sheath.

I cease my study of the man when he turns a corner of the halls, noting how I haven't seen any other people as we've walked.

"Where is everyone?" I ask, my voice still exceptionally raspy, though I don't cough.

"Currently, most of the castle is asleep. While day and night have little meaning here in Nohr, only the night guard is up at this time," he replies. "There will be some leftover food from the last meal, and it will serve." I merely grunt in reply, following him silently.

After traversing a rather long staircase downwards, he leads me through a maze of halls, only passing by a single pair of patrolling guards, which struck me as a terrible choice in terms of security. Honestly, I'd find it easy to enter here if I was an intruder.

Still, it's possible that they don't have enough guards to man anything more than a skeleton crew.

After several more minutes of walking, we reach a small door next to a model suit of armor, which appears to be made of cheap metals for presentability over practicality.

What a waste of space.

The guard enters the room, prompting me to follow, where I find us entering a large room. In the light of the torch, I note how there appear to be dishes on a wooden rack, with silverware near inside of wooden bins. Further inspection of what I could see of the room showed pans and dishes stacked on shelves pressed onto the wall, while several chests sit a fair distance from the door, near a stove and a large counter that has some food atop itself. On the opposite side of the room I spot several barrels stacked upon each other.

"There's water in the barrels and mugs near them," he informs me, pointing. "Get some and then we'll talk." I nod in gratitude and move past the man, grabbing one of the mugs he had indicated.

I look at the barrels, and find a simple tap, and after positioning my vessel, fill it swiftly.

I drink like a man starved of water for decades in the desert, polishing off three mugs before turning back to the guard. He raises an eyebrow at me, but otherwise doesn't comment.

"My name is Galen," he informs me. "I'm the Vice-Captain of the guard here at the Northern Fortress. You were brought here after engaging in combat with the bandits that assaulted Guard Captain Gunter and the little Princess, and given medical aid. After the aid you provided, it would have been most dishonorable for us to simply allow you to die." His gaze turns to steel after that, making me stiffen. "That being said, we need to ensure you aren't a threat yourself, so I will be asking you some questions and the Captain will ask you more later."

"Very well," I reply, belying the clenching feeling in my gut.

"Who are you? Where do you come from? What were you doing so close to the Northern Fortress?" He demands, leaning towards me. It is at this moment that I realized, I am short in comparison to this man.

He's easily a head taller than I am. Still, his aura, while he's emitting bloodlust, it isn't much in comparison to…. Comparison to what?

 _I was, comparing his bloodlust, but to whose?_ I wonder, my brow furrowing in confusion. _More to the point, his questions, my name… Where I'm from? What I'm doing here? What are the answers? Why, why can't I, why can't I remember?_ I'm struck by a sudden pain in my head, and crumble, groaning as I fall towards the floor.

"Whoa, what's going on with you lad?" The man asks loudly, crouching where I stay on my arms and legs, placing a hand on my shoulder.

In the very moment of contact, my mind contracts, and all I can feel is an utter sense of _**vI**_ o _ **lA**_ t _ **I**_ **oN…**

In an instant, I flare my magicka, feeling a massive strain in the core of my being, before slamming a blast of lighting into the man's chest. He flies back, slamming into the wall as my breath comes in massive gulps and heaves.

I launch myself past him and out the door of the kitchen, feeling far too constrained.

White terror scrapes through my mind, blotting any and all coherent thought, leaving only sheer instinct and willpower as my lungs begin burning. I fly through the halls, hearing nothing except the pounding of my heartbeat as I try to escape.

I round a corner and slam into a solid obstacle, finding my momentum reversing and crash to the floor. I turn and put my hands on the ground to stand, only to freeze as I notice something on the back of my left hand.

A mark, an emblem of some kind, similar to three pairs of eyes moving along a head or snout, coming to a 'V' shape, with the base twisting together. At the sight of it, the terror from my thoughts abate, and I find my mind my own as my body gasps for breath. I shudder as I gaze at the mark, feeling a sense of foreboding and, oddly enough, safety at the sight.

I slowly come about, hearing mutters and whispers as I take long heaving breaths.

I slowly look back at what I slammed into, to find a tall armored man, with gray hair and beard glaring down at me while Galen stands in front of me, hand ready to draw his sword.

"Sorry," I manage to mutter, pushing myself to my feet. "I just felt, something. Fear, I don't really know." I pause and take a few more gulps of breath as I turn towards the gray haired man.

"So would you care to explain why you attacked my second in command?" The gray haired knight demands, voice like iron as the vice captain walks next to him. "Simple fear is not enough to excuse this." I shake my head.

"Couldn't think, the second he touched me, my thoughts, stopped. I just, I-I don't-," I try, my words failing me as the two stare. "I just knew, had to run. To escape." I feel the weight of the knights glare as his eyes narrow.

"With all due respect, Captain, while he did attack, it was nothing more than a stun and a burst of force," Galen states, though he keeps a hand on his blade. "Even without the wards on my armor, I likely would have been more injured by hitting the wall, which does indicate a lack of true hostile intent." The knight lets out a hum, but otherwise doesn't react.

"And I am to simply believe running into me knocked you out of this, trance?" He asks dubiously. I look at the mark on my hand once again, brow furrowing.

"This, I saw this, and it just, stopped. I-I don't know," I reply in distress. "I can't remember, can't remember any of it!" I grab my head as it throbs, falling to lean on the wall next to me. "I-I tried, but, there's just, nothing!"

"Some form of amnesia, then?" The knight queries, crossing his arms. "Even if I were to believe that, why would you react so violently when my subordinate touched you?" I take a few breaths, trying to think.

"I-I, I don't know," I reply, distressed. "I c-can't remember!" I tremble slightly as a grunt forces it's way past my lips. "I-it's, it's just, g-g-gone!"

"Steady, man!" Galen states, cutting through my panic with a sure voice, though he remains at a distance. "I know you feel panicked, perhaps even lost, but you must remain calm." The knight stares at me as I take several breaths, trying to steady myself.

 _R-right,_ I think, nodding shakily. _I may not have memories, but this situation is foreign to everyone here._ Inhale. _What do I know?_ Exhale. _I, woke up injured. My arm in particular was entirely inoperable._ Inhale. _Now it's repaired, thanks to the people who helped me. I, fought against bandits or brigands with this knight, the Guard Captain, I believe, and saved his men._ Exhale. _This demonstrated an exceptional skill in magic, or maybe a basic understanding? I'm uncertain. I can fight with it, and channel it well. From what I can recall, there was a sheath on my waist._ Inhale. _But no blade. I might have lost one, and may have skill with swords as well. Moving on, there were two children there alongside the soldiers, however, the guard party was small, especially for what I assume was a Princess, if Galen is be trusted. So, possibility that she and the other child snuck out, and the three men were a search party who encountered a particularly lucky group of bandits._ Exhale. _That, or the two were kidnapped, which I highly doubt, since this is a fortress. Then again, the security hasn't impressed me yet. After helping rescue the two, I fell unconscious, woke up here, and met Galen. From there, we went for food and water, and then my lack of memory made me panic._

I put a hand on my chin, frowning as my eyes narrow.

 _But, the dream that I had earlier, I was, bowing? Some person of higher note than I, one who I appeared to revere, and, a name?_ I wonder, take in another breath. _If that was a memory, then it's possible something happened to lock away my memories… I'll need to do a further analysis of the situation later before coming to a definite conclusion._

I stand off the wall, brushing my hands over my shirt to smoothen it out.

"My apologies for my previous reactions. I do not know what came over me," I say as I perform a bow to the two. "My actions were inexcusable toward such gracious hosts." I exit my bow and look the Captain in the eye. "It is my understanding that you have many questions for me. While I do not know what exactly I am able to explain at this moment, I shall endeavor to explain what has happened to me with utmost clarity." The man looks into my eyes, and lets out a grunt.

"You claim to have amnesia. If this is the case, there should be something left of your memory," he states. "What do you remember?" I close my eyes and rub my temples, trying to recall something.

All I can recall is waking, and some, very faint faces, some, fuzzy events.

"I, am not certain," I reply, brow furrowing further as my mouth falls to a scowl. "There are, images, some few and far between glances at what I was." I let out a groan as a few flash before my mind, standing against a horde of red eyed figures, sword and tome in hand. "Some flashes of combat. I, have quite a bit of training, I think. Magic, swordsmanship, tactics, strategy." I let my hand fall as my scowl deepens. "And a name. Not mine, I think. Somebody, close to me though." I meet the man's eyes again. "Anything else is simply gone. I could likely demonstrate my combat abilities, but I'd prefer to have some form of nourishment first, if you don't mind."

The man stares at me for several seconds, Galen having relaxed his stance, his hands falling to rest at his sides.

After several moments, the man nods.

"Very well then," he grumbles. "While your story is more than slightly suspect, you did save our Princess and the lives of my men." His glare dies down slightly. "For that, I owe you gratitude. While I am not certain of your intentions, I am willing to lend you the benefit of the doubt, for now." He inclines his head slightly. "I am the Captain of the Guard here in the Northern Fortress, Gunter." I nod before a I let out a yawn, feeling slightly drained. "Lieutenant Galen will escort you back to your room, and when you wake tomorrow, we will discuss what to do with you." I nod, and the Captain turns on his heel in a clear dismissal, moving down the mostly empty hall.

Galen lets out a breath, sending a small grin my way.

"To be honest, that lightning hurt quite a bit," he quietly informs me as we begin walking, making me flinch as he rubs to place on his armor where I'd struck him. "Any more powerful and I may well have been knocked unconscious, or worse." He turns his head to look at me for a moment as we round a corner. "I've seen that face before, the utter panic and fear. I knew you weren't going to think rationally while in such a state, and I've little doubt the Captain saw as well. It may be why he allowed you some leeway for the moment. That being said." He stops and turns to glare full force at me, his small frown falling to be replaced by a fierce scowl. I almost take a step back as he stares me down. "Threaten anyone in this fortress, and I'll make sure you don't get another chance. Got it?"

I nod slowly, my eyes scanning the soldier before me, noting his stance, armor weaknesses, sword positioning, potential hidden weapons, and other information.

 _Threat Level: Scorpion,_ a small voice in the back of my mind states, making me blink. _Scorpion? What is scorpion level threat?_ I gain no answer as the man leans back and posture eases, becoming almost welcoming in a moment.

"Come on, we've got a small walk back to your room, as I'm sure you remember."

I nod and follow him, as we reach a passage on the outer edge of the fort, passing by a rather small window. I peer out in curiosity, seeing nothing but darkness and forest in that specific direction.

I hear the sound of a bird, and stop, my brow furrowing. I wait for a moment, ignoring how Galen's heavy footsteps stop, how he stares at me, frowning. A moment later, a black feathered bird flies by the window, making me blink. I step towards the window and lean forward slightly, looking for the bird again.

I find it easily enough, my eyes easily adapting to the low lighting. The bird swoops through the air, flapping often. I stare for several moments, before something snaps into place as the vice captain opens his mouth.

"Crow."

"What?" The man asks, off put by my sudden declaration.

"My name. It's Crow," I state with absolute surety. "One mystery down."

* * *

 **AN:** Cut.

I wanted to make Crow remember his name as Morgan. It would have made sense with his character, but then you people might have a tough time seeing Crow as Crow rather than Morgan.(as Morgan can be male, which I find to be an abomination. Female Morgan is just too adorable to be denied a place in any Awakening game… why, cruel world...)

Also, he's more than a little formal with his speech, but that's the way he is. Last chapter was under duress, and now he is, something close to in his element.

However, he might break character from time to time. That'll just be my fault, I'm sorry, it's a mistake.(or he's being charming. One of the two)

Now, some people might be wondering about that italicized blurb in the beginning. To be exact, that is a memory. I will do my best to include a memory of his life before in the initial moments of every chapter. However, on occasion, I will dabble into the world he left behind, and the effects. I do hope the information provided by such instances will be helpful in the building of this world.

Anyhow, Thanks for reading, let me know if you spot any typos and the like, I'll see you next time.

-Lambda38


End file.
